


Flight Interrupted

by StrictlyNoFrills



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Comment Fic, Family, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrictlyNoFrills/pseuds/StrictlyNoFrills
Summary: Based on a Tumblr post which is actually a repost from Twitter: https://strictlynofrills.tumblr.com/post/641300683503632384/enigma-the-mysterious-modern-au-papa-trevilleThe post says, ‘Yesterday, I overheard my two-year-old son saying, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and my five-year-old son replying, “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.’Enigma-the-mysterious said ‘Modern AU Papa Treville with teeny Porthos and an even teenier Aramis’ -And I’m weak. I had to do it.
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay & Porthos du Vallon, Aramis | René d'Herblay & de Tréville, Porthos du Vallon & de Treville
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	Flight Interrupted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enigma_TM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigma_TM/gifts).



> I do actually know that it’s highly unlikely that a two-year-old would come up with a phrase like, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” on his own. My theory is either: a) the original twitter post was fabricated, or b) the kid heard it in a movie or TV show in a similar situation and was just parroting.

By all accounts, the morning had started well. Aramis didn’t pitch a fit when he had to leave his passi in his room, Porthos got dressed all by himself and remembered to brush his teeth.

Jean felt safe enough leaving his boys to play in their playroom, since the kitchen was in the next room, and the adjoining wall was thin enough that he should have no trouble keeping an ear or two on them.

He should have known that things had been going a little too well. The moment he heard little Aramis asking, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jean flipped off the burner he’d been using to cook French toast.

He ran full-out into the adjacent room while Porthos was still in the middle of saying, “Trust me,” and felt his heart stop beating at the sight of Aramis standing on the plastic kitchenette, arms outstretched.

Before the kitchenette stood Porthos, holding a blanket out, presumably for Aramis to land on.

Not wanting to find out, Jean dashed over and scooped Aramis off the kitchenette, asking, “How did you even get up there? Never mind that. We do not climb the furniture, and we absolutely do not jump off of it! Do you hear me?”

Aramis nodded, his big brown eyes wide and his mouth hanging open, still stunned by Jean’s sudden appearance.

”Porthos, what do you have to say for yourself?”

”I woulda caught him! I’d never let anything happen to Aramis.”

Jean’s blood pressure rose even higher than it had been since his heart started beating again after seeing Aramis poised as if ready to take flight. “That is not the point. That is so far from the point you couldn’t find it with a compass and a map.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Alright, then. That settles it. We were going to have French toast since you two were doing so well this morning, but clearly, you don’t need all the sugar. So, you two will have plain toast and scrambled eggs.” And the batch of French toast he’d already made would be Jean’s. He’d dare say he had earned it after his boys nearly gave him a heart-attack before 9:00am.

“But papa!” two little voices cried.

”I don’t want to hear it. You should have thought about the consequences before you tried to do something so foolish. You’re just lucky I got here before Aramis jumped, or it could have been much, much worse.”

”What if we promise to never do it again?” Porthos wheedled.

”Oh, you’re going to do that anyway,” Jean assured him. “From now on, I’m not taking my eyes off the pair of you for a second. Come on. Into the kitchen with you.”

He made Aramis sit in his booster seat without any toys as part of his punishment, and Porthos had to set the table while Jean finished making breakfast. All the while, the two little boys looked quite hard done by.

Jean was strong. He would not smile. He would not laugh. At least not where they could see it.

And if Jean caved and put a little maple syrup and a tiny bit of powdered sugar and cinnamon on his foster sons’ toast after seeing the pitiful looks they sent towards his own plate, that was no one’s business but his own.


End file.
